


Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.

by draca (wyvernwolf)



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernwolf/pseuds/draca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tried not to feel sorry for himself but the realisation that he was alone sat like a heavy stone in his stomach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.

Sam Tyler decided that he hated Valentine's Day. Normally he'd have no problems with it, but in 1973, he just wanted it to go away.

He tried to behave like it was a day just like any other but it was hard to ignore all the signs to the contrary. Everywhere he looked he was confronted with things reminding him that it was a day for lovers; couples holding hands, love songs on the radio, flowers and chocolates, hearts and teddy bears. Romance was flowing for everyone but him.

Even work hadn't been the solace he'd been hoping for. Outwardly the station looked normal but he could see the telltale signals that cupid had been out and about with his stupid bow and arrow.

Phyllis had had a huge vase of flowers on her desk, almost obscuring her face, but when asked who they were from, she had sniffed and refused to answer but he'd seen the fond look she'd given the showy blooms as he'd turned to walk away.

Ray had spent most of the day moaning about how his latest girl Velma was expecting him to wine and dine her tonight, Sam wasn't usually prone to violence but his fists had been itching to plant themselves in Ray's smug face, while Annie had been blushing over the roses that had appeared on her desk from some secret admirer, probably that insipid DC from RCS. He didn't even want to remember how much clumsier Chris had been all because he was suffering from nerves over a supposed date he had for that evening. There'd even been heartshaped boxes of what Sam guessed were chocolates and bouquets of flowers ready for wives or girlfriends on the desks of the other officers in CID. It had been downright sickening.

The worst blow had been when he'd overhead Litton gloating about the romantic night he had planned wining and dining some poor woman he'd met at an art gathering. That had been rubbing salt in an open wound. After that, he'd headed to the Collator's Den and buried himself in the antiquated filing system determined to drive all thoughts of love and romance out of his head.

Thankfully it had been a quiet day crime wise and he'd managed to hide for the larger portion of the day. The expected shakedown by Gene for being overly obsessed with paperwork had never come. Indeed Gene had been strangely elusive for most of the day. When he had ran into the other man on one of his few forays outside the Den and casually asked him over for a drink later he'd got a mumbled reply about 'other plans' before Gene had quickly made himself scarce. Sam'd morosely concluded that those plans included the ever elusive Missus and had returned to the piles of dusty files with even more enthusiasm.

It was like the story he'd been taught in Sunday School of Noah's Ark where all the animals had been paired up and marched into the ark two by two. Only in this version, he'd been forgotten and didn't have anyone so was left behind.

He tried not to feel sorry for himself but the realisation that he was alone sat like a heavy stone in his stomach. It wasn't conceit but in the past, or was it the future, he'd never had problems with being alone on Valentine's Day. There'd always been someone that he could spend the day with, whether it be a girlfriend, his Mum or Aunt Heather. The only person he really wanted to be with in 1973 had someone else and trapped as he was in this time that wasn't his, he had no one else. The bleakness contained in that thought didn't help the bitter loneliness that was creeping in and slowly enveloping him in it's desolate depths. He'd been vaguely aware that he was lonely but had always managed to ignore it. Today however, it just wasn't an easy thing to do, not with all the reminders floating around that everyone else had someone to go home to but all he had was an empty flat.

Later that evening, slumped on his bed with nothing but a few bottles of scotch to keep him company, Sam wallowed in the lonely silence of his crappy little bedsit. The quiet was humming in his ears and threatening to overwhelm him and he was very tempted to turn on the telly but in the state he was in he might have welcomed that creepy girl and her even creepier clown, and that was something he definitely did not want. He was lonely but he wasn't that lonely. Anyway, turning on the telly would mean he would have to get up, and after the amount of Scotch he'd ingested, he didn't think he would be able to without falling flat on his face. So he would have to stay put and endure the shushed stillness of his flat. Too bad that the quiet reminded him of a tomb.

Upending his second bottle of the night he toyed with the idea of visiting this year's version of his Mum. His Dad wasn't around anymore and she might like the company. But no, he'd promised himself after the whole fiasco with Vic Tyler that he wouldn't go near her or little Sammy again. Who knew what it was doing to his future or the timeline if he mucked about with them. Who knew what he'd already done by interfering like that. Or had his interference been needed to set things right because things had been mucked up somehow. But then, if that was the case, what was he still doing here? And ow. Thinking about timelines and the future/past made his head hurt.

A sharp rap broke into his reverie and had him tumbling off the bed in surprise. He wasn't expecting anyone. Everyone he knew in this time was busy being part of a duo while he was on his lonesome.

Maybe he'd dreamed it? He was definitely drunk enough. Blinking, he sat staring at the door from his place on the grubby floor and waited to see if it would make that noise again.

Another rap, more like a bang really, had the door shaking in it's frame.

Ok. Not a dream then.

Clambering up, Sam managed to stumble to the door and flung it open only to be almost thumped in the head by the upraised fist of one Gene Hunt.

He stood in his doorway, goggling stupidly at the older man until Gene sighed and shoved his way past, leaving him gaping at the empty space before he realised that he must look a right idiot and shut the door. Turning shakily he was confronted with the sight of Gene standing stock still in the middle of the flat, one arm hidden behind his back, the other shoved into the pocket of his camel haired coat. His silence was intimidating and his bulking presence made the already small room even smaller. Sam found himself involuntarily shrinking back as the look on that face was rather forbidding. In his intoxicated state, Sam couldn't quite remember if he'd done something wrong earlier in the day and Gene was here to rough him up for it. Or maybe his plans with the Missus had bottomed out and he was here to take it out on Sam. Or maybe-

The arm that had been behind Gene's back came forward and Sam flinched expecting a closed fist, but instead, a single red rose was shoved in his face.

Suddenly stone cold sober, Sam looked at it for a long time before slowly reaching out a shaking hand and running a gentle finger over one of the petals. It was soft and felt like cool velvet. Raising his eyes past the perfect red rose, Sam's gaze met the shyly hopeful one of Gene, and wasn't that a sight, a shy Gene Hunt, and he couldn't help but smile, the loneliness dropping away from him like a shroud and replaced by a rising tide of hope.

Later, lying on his bed firmly wrapped in warm arms and safely cocooned in the soft steady sounds of Gene's breathing, Sam Tyler decided he loved Valentine's Day. Especially Valentine's Day in 1973.

-Fin-


End file.
